


Refractive Errors

by ruethedaze



Category: GOT7
Genre: Ahgase - Freeform, GOT7 - Freeform, I'm going to stop now, M/M, Markjin, Morkjean, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-12-27 16:41:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21121946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ruethedaze/pseuds/ruethedaze
Summary: In which a young man makes Mark believe in love at first sight—and a little bit more. Things progress from here.





	Refractive Errors

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! It took me 309529035 years before I decided to publish something again and I hope you like it. I'm still deciding how long this goes but I guess this is how I'll begin things. The tags are actually spoilers but, *sigh* okay. Constructive criticism is very much appreciated. Enjoy reading!

Unlike the majority of the students entering the faculty room, Mark was there not to beg for units. He sighed as he squeezed himself on the edge of the bench and eyed the queue that started from the table of the office secretary.

_Large lecture class_, Mark thought to himself. _Been there, done that. Be patient kids, your time will come._

One of the perks of being a senior was having the first day of registration reserved for them, maybe so the university could get rid of them as soon as possible and turn them into working robots. Regardless of that, Mark, just like all graduating students, took advantage of this, well, advantage.

He deserved these eighteen units, of course. But seeing all these students having to line up and practically beg for their subjects, Mark felt some guilt forming into a knot in his stomach.

The least he could do, he surmised, was to graduate. One less competition for units, one more pawn thrown in the unemployment void to dream of alleviating the problems of the world and making a difference.

Mark was early for his thesis consultation. In fact, too early because the professor in their previous class didn't meet them (and didn't bother informing them, too, great).

He decided to kill his time by observing the usual clues of being a first year student—ID lace, big backpacks, collared shirts, straight-cut pants, and rubber shoes. It was not like Mark made outright fun of them and what they looked like—please, he was just like them a few years ago—but seniors like him and his best friend Jackson could feel the stark differences in posture, pace, and progress between the newbies and...oldies, as much as they hated to admit this fact.

It only seemed like yesterday when they were the ones in these freshmen's shoes, chatting in line about known terror profs, hard to find buildings, and major subjects. They were once these new faces, still full of energy from long hours of sleep and months of slacking off.

Now all Mark wanted to do was graduate. He felt this before, also when he was a senior but in high school. He couldn't wait to be in college and meet new people and get out. Now, he couldn't wait to see the real, real world sans whatever sense of idealism left on his perspective of life.

It took the clanking of the chimes of the department's back door to disassociate him from his reverie and bring him back to reality.

A young man slowly entered through the doorway; he was neither rushing nor unbothered, just plainly entering the room as mundane it was.

But it was not a normal feeling for someone like Mark. As he watched this guy, he started taking in details of him as swiftly as he could, as if a part of him was telling him that he was either a) a figment of his imagination from lack of sleep due to playing Tekken, or b) a stranger he wouldn't see again.

The young man was clad in a red plaid button down and dark washed jeans. The chain clasped on his belt made Mark's eyebrows raise, a reaction of unspoken "wow", but when Mark observed that he was also wearing a pair of maroon 1461's, he could no longer hide his growing fascination for him. He smiled and rolled his eyes.

_He's probably an upperclassman_, Mark thought to himself. _His fashion's too cool for school. The chain was very much noted, adds some roughness to a tame, minimalist outfit. I'd like to try that, too._

"Miss Gracie, good afternoon. How's your day so far?" the young man smiled as he greeted the secretary of the department. She lowered her head to get a good look of whoever greeted her, and when she saw him, she grinned.

"Just fixing some first day shenanigans. What about you? Good to be back, my child?" she responded.

_It figures, an upperclassman who took a leave of absence. That explains the coolness. The detached attachment to the place._

The young man nodded and checked some papers on the secretary's table. He picked up some and looked around the room, as if looking for someone.

Mark gulped and attempted to avert his gaze, but it was too late. The guy's eyes caught his for a moment, then looked away.

It was a moment, too, for Mark—a moment he hastily thought that it was possible to fall in love at first sight—that a gasp escaped from his mouth.

_God, Mark. Get a hold of yourself_, he reminded his whole system.

He tried his hardest to focus his attention on his enrollment papers, his phone, god even on the indoor plants (one is turning yellow, you, dear, need some wetness!), but he could not stop himself from looking at the young man.

_Stop. Stop. Stop it_, he thought to himself. _You're delusional. Get a grip, he's just a stranger. Fine, then, one last!_

He ended his internal debate upon deciding that he would take one last look on him then that was it. It was over. What was he expecting for, though? It was just a plain game of chance that he saw him for the first time today in his last year in the university.

He looked at him again, but his back was already turned to him as he was walking towards the meeting room.

_Wait_, Mark hesitated. _No._

The young man did not hesitate and just entered, his stride as normal as it was, like he had done it so many a time that it seemed part of his routine.

But it was nothing of normalcy to Mark, and he closed his eyes in frustration.

"Oh god, he's a professor," Mark whispered to himself. Saying it out loud—or at least loud enough for Mark to hear it—made everything realer, including the gap between him and this young man—the age, experience, and the distance—as he entered the meeting room.

**Author's Note:**

> If you're reading this, thank you! You keep me going. Drink water, you!


End file.
